


Five One Five Oh

by Headfulloffantasies



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Billy Joel - Freeform, Fires, Gen, Getting in Trouble, Gotham's lax policy on vigilantes, Run ins with Police officers, School constable, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Headfulloffantasies/pseuds/Headfulloffantasies
Summary: The Batfam have to explain themselves to the police
Comments: 1
Kudos: 133





	Five One Five Oh

1  
Jason loved driving Bruce’s Camaro. He loved the purr, the rumble of the road, the sleek frame. He did not like driving with Dick in the passenger’s seat. Dick insisted on continually informing Jason how far over the speed limit he pushed the speedometer. 

Blue and red flashed in Jason’s rear view mirror. 

Jason swore. 

“I told you, you were going too fast,” Dick said.

Jason pulled over to the shoulder of the road. The officer got out of the car. 

Jason swore again. “Quick, switch places with me.”

“What?” Dick yelped as Jason dove across his lap. “Why?”

“I don’t have a legal driver’s license.”

“What?!” Dick’s voice rose several octaves.

“What?” Jason shrugged. “I died at fourteen.”

“You don’t have a fake ID?” Dick asked incredulously. He fought Jason’s attempts at unbuckling Dick’s seatbelt.

“I do,” Jason paused. “But Roy made it. It says I was born in 1166.”

Dick groaned.

“I thought it was funny at the time!” Jason defended.

A knock at the window froze them both.

The officer glared down at them. Jason tried to see it from the officer’s perspective. The speeding driver sprawled over the console gripping the passenger’s seatbelt like a lifeline. Not good.

They got lucky. Jason walked away from the experience with a warning. The officer barely glanced at his license, not bothering to read any of the mismatched details. 

“You’re going to the DMV tomorrow morning,” Dick said as the black and white cruiser drove away. 

“Make me,” Jason shot back. He revved the car into gear and peeled away from the curb.

2  
The kitchen on the third floor of Wayne Enterprises swarmed with firefighters and police officers. The smoke had dissipated, but the awful smell of burnt plastic singed every corner.

The GCPD officer pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me one more time why you thought it was a good idea to put the fire in the microwave?”

Tim shrugged. “Microwaves are supposed to keep things hot, right? We thought it would contain the fire.”

“And you didn’t think to pour water on it, or cover it?”

“Well, Jason said that playdoh has oil in it, and you can’t pour water on an oil fire, right?” Jason nodded along behind Tim. Tim’s left sleeve of his blazer had been torn off. A burnt rag in the same winter blue smoldered in the trash can.

“And how did this start in the first place?”

Tim shrugged again. “We don’t know. We didn’t start the fire, officer.”

Jason started humming Billy Joel. Tim elbowed him.

Tim finished giving the officer his statement. The officer packed up his notebook and left shaking his head. As soon as the room emptied Jason broke out into song.

“We didn’t start the fire!” Jason crowed. “It was always burning since the world’s been turning!”

3  
The school constable glared at Damian over his desk. Damian glared back. The clock in the corner ticked. The minutes stretched. Damian didn’t blink. The constable’s moustache twitched. 

The door flung open. Bruce Wayne stood in a crisp black suit with a blood red tie that cost more than the constable’s salary. 

“Damian,” Bruce Wayne said.

Damian hopped down from his chair and walked out of the office without a word. 

Bruce followed his child all the way to the car idling on the curb outside Gotham Academy. 

Damian flung himself in the backseat, not even bothering to insist he could drive. He folded his arms over his chest and huffed.

Bruce got into the driver’s seat and sighed. “We’ve had this discussion, Damian. No weapons at school.”

“A katana is a ceremonial piece,” Damian argued. 

“Not according to the school board,” Bruce said. 

4  
Detective Soma glanced between the face on her phone screen and the man standing beside his motorcycle. The dark-haired girl he was with claimed they had nothing to do with the bank’s alarms going off. They’d just been sitting on the front steps eating hot dogs when the Two Face gang suddenly launched out into the street and tore away. Wrong place, wrong time, the girl kept repeating. She didn’t say much else. 

Detective Soma might have new to Gotham, but she had eyes. And that right there, was the vigilante Red Hood. 

She pulled the kid away from the hulking man scowling at every cop who came too close.

“Are you in any kind of trouble, honey?” Detective Soma asked.

The girl shook her head.

“Sweetie, that man over there, how do you know him?”

“He’s my cousin,” the girl said.

Detective Soma nodded. “Do you know what your cousin does for a living?”

The girl shrugged. 

“Does this look like your cousin to you?” Detective Soma showed the girl the wanted poster on her phone screen.

The girl shook her head. “No.”

“No, you don’t think that looks like him?”

“No.”

“Honey, your cousin looks pretty similar to the Red Hood.” Detective Soma tried.

“No, that’s cousin Alfie.”

5  
“So, you don’t know what Catwoman stole?” Detective Soma rubbed the migraine forming between her eyes.

“No, ma’am,” Robin told her. He was the taller Robin. The one who ran with the Titans. He maybe called himself Red Robin now? Whatever, he didn’t have a sword, that’s all Soma cared about.

Batgirl stood at Robin’s side, her purple uniform a breath of fresh air in the red and black dominated vigilante world.

“So, Catwoman managed to get away with a priceless artifact, but neither of you know what it was?”

“Was it gold?” Robin asked.

“Yes.”

“Was it a gold statue?” Batgirl asked.

“Yes.”

Robin rubbed his chin. “Was it the gold statue of a Latin American deity shaped like a woman with a water pitcher that was taken from its native country without consent of the people and toured around the Western world in flagrant disregard of its heritage of protecting a specific holy site in South America?”

“Yes.”

“No, we didn’t see Catwoman take anything like that,” Batgirl finished.

“Of course not,” Detective Soma withered up and died on the inside. Just once, she’d like to work with a cooperative vigilante. They said Metropolis and Star City gave their heroes the keys to the city.

+1  
Nightwing’s lip was bleeding. Gordon noticed it from across the rooftop where Nightwing passed off a hogtied Mad Hatter to Detective Montoya.

Nightwing caught sight of Gordon and bounced his way over. “Hiya, Commish.”

Gordon glared over his glasses at Nightwing. “You know I could arrest you for vigilantism.”

Dick grinned. “That would make Sunday dinner awkward, sir.”

“Sure would,” Gordon grumbled. “Good job with the case. Now, get lost, kid.”

Dick shot off an insolent salute. He vanished into the night like his mentor with a cackling laugh.

Gordon sighed. Some day, this corrupt city would get its act together. Gordon looked forward to it. Hell, he worked himself to the bone for that future every day. But once the streets of Gotham were safe, he prayed the masked heroes had the decency to hang up their capes. It would be a dark day in Gotham when Gordon was forced to arrest his future son-in-law.


End file.
